Jess and I went to see Mission: Impossible III a couple of weeks ago. (Some spoilers indicated below.) To beat the crowds, we picked a Monday evening and avoided the city centre theatres, heading out to the Hoyts cinemas at nearby Victoria Gardens. Not only did we beat the crowds, but when we arrived the place felt abandoned. Not exactly paying attention, I absently zig-zagged through the empty cordoned queue area while Jessica watched ruefully, shaking her head, and joined me at the ticket counter.

There we met with a young woman holding a walkie-talkie, who looked very unsure of herself as she sold us our tickets, then radioed ahead to ask a member of staff to go man the ticket taker's position for a few minutes as we made our way there. Sure enough, he appeared just as we got to the little podium, where he ripped our tickets and directed us to the third door on the left.

As we entered the cinema, we were surprised to find the lights were down and there was already something playing on the screen. It was 8:40pm and the movie wasn't scheduled to start until 8:45pm, so I figured the projectionist must have decided nobody was showing up for that session and started the pre-show advertisement reel ahead of schedule, hoping to make an early night of it. As we made our way to our seats, however, I couldn't help but notice Tom Cruise's unmistakable grin on the screen---the film was already in progress!

As my eyes adjusted, I also noticed two couples sitting in the row behind ours, looking mildly annoyed that we were obstructing their view. We took our seats, the music swelled, and (Spoiler warning!) Tom and his silver-screen squeeze walked towards the camera in slow motion. Ving Rhames busted a move, someone threw confetti, and (End spoiler.) the picture cut to black. The credits rolled. The situation became clear: we had walked in on the final moments of the film.

When the lights came up, Jess voiced her notions of what she would say to Mr. Ticket Ripper if she saw him again. I vowed aloud not to see any more films in cinemas (unless, you know, it was a new Star Trek movie or something). Another couple came in and took their seats. Time passed. 8:45pm came and went. The movie didn't start.

As Jess and I stewed in our seats, obstinantly determined to let the situation worsen until we had a court case, the other couple went in search of answers. By the time they returned, Jess and I had examined our tickets to discover the truth: Ms. Walkie Talkie had sold us tickets to the 9:10pm session, not the 8:45pm. She had told the other couple that we could all move to the 8:45pm session if we wanted to, but that the film was already ten minutes in.

So we sat. We waited. We ate our expensive ice cream. Eventually, the lights dimmed, and we watched the ads, mentally blacklisting the products and services out of spite. Finally, the movie started. And that's when it came. The inevitable kick-whilst-down. (Spoiler!) In the very first scene, the silver-screen squeeze was apparently killed before Tom's tearful gaze. Shock. Horror. Except not, because we already knew the two of them had a happy slow-motion jaunt towards camera at the end of the flick. (End.)

As the film progressed, Jess and I repeatedly traded smirks as it became clear that all the tension hinged on the audience not knowing how it ended. So we sat back and took in the computer-generated effects. Jess mentally composed a sharply-worded letter of complaint and I this blog post.

The difference is that when Jess got home she actually sent her letter of complaint, while I mentally filed away my blog post as "probably not funny enough." Guess which one got a response.

Dear Jessica,

Thank you for the correspondence regarding your recent visit to Hoyts Victoria Gardens. We appreciate your preference for enjoying movies at Hoyts Victoria Gardens and welcome your feedback. It is this feedback that allows us to greater improve our service.

Upon investigation I agree that the level of service you experienced was not acceptable I apologise unreservedly for it occurring. All relevant staff have been counselled in regards to the matter and our procedures are being reviewed as we intend to ensure that this remains an isolated incident.

I would like to refund the purchase price of your tickets and as an indication of the degree of our contrition I will forward 2 complimentary passes to permit you to again visit Hoyts Victoria Gardens thus permitting us the opportunity to provide you with the attentive and pleasurable experience that we are renowned for.

Please contact me at your convenience by calling 9425 4421 during office hours so I can personally arrange for your refund and complimentary passes.

I look forward to speaking to you soon.

Regards,

Aaron Chuck
Hoyts Victoria Gardens

It's easy to say they don't actually care and won't really change their procedures. After all, what are a few free movie tickets to Hoyts? But hey, I think they did the right thing by us. And anyone who knows the word "contrition" is okay in my books.

Still, Jess and I will be seeing our next film at Victoria Gardens late on a Monday night... just to see how Ms. Talkie and Mr. Ripper are doing.